Which made his eyes narrow. He well remembered Thomas Thorne. The man had turned every female head in the courtroom, including the judge’s.
‘Well, politics aside, he is a big guy. Nobody’s gonna bother her with him around.’
‘You know him?’ JD tried to make the question nonchalant, but he could see Stevie was not fooled. Stevie was rarely fooled.
‘Only to be in court with him,’ she said. ‘He’s a real piece of work, although I’ve never known him to out and out lie. If Lucy’s with Thorne, she’s okay for now.’
JD still wished he could turn the car around and be sure she was all right. But he had work to do. They were here. He pulled into a space in front of Brandi Bennett’s apartment building. She’d been easy enough to find. She’d filed for a business license, citing this as her primary address. The nature of her business had been a little less easy to determine. The state’s business directory said ‘Modeling’. They’d have to see exactly what Mrs Bennett was showing off.
‘You want to take the lead with the wife?’ he asked.
Stevie shrugged. ‘The doorman said she liked men. If you can soften her up with that dimple of yours, be my guest.’
Chapter Six
Newport News, Virginia, Monday, May 3, 1.25 P.M.
C
lay could see the gray water of the Bay and boats bobbing in the distance. On any other day he might have been thinking of a quiet day fishing. But not today.
He pulled into the run-down subdivision where Evan had last lived. According to Nicki, it was all the man could afford after his wife had kicked him out.
Which, Clay thought, she’d been more than entitled to do. By his own admission, Evan had cheated on her multiple times with multiple women. The last of his women was the game-changer. Margo Winchester was certifiably insane, but would she—
Oh God
. Yes, she would. Clay slowed his car as he passed the little frame house which Evan had rented. It was gone. Burned to the ground. A Condemned sign was planted in the front yard, yellow crime-scene tape across what had been the door.
Margo had made good on her threat. Part of it anyway. She’d told Evan she’d kill him, then lay waste to everything he owned, including his children. She’d sent him letters, included photographs of his house, of his children at play in the schoolyard.
She’d meant business.
Clay dragged one hand down his face. He was tired. Which didn’t matter at the moment. He needed to check the local death notices. Find out if Evan’s body had been found. He needed to have a chat with Ms Margo Winchester. Because if Evan was still alive, Clay needed to get him to safety.
It was what Evan Reardon had paid for. Safe passage to a new life.
Of course, if Evan was dead, Margo needed to pay, and Clay would have to bring the matter to the attention of the police.
Without bringing attention to me
. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Alyssa, who answered on the third ring. ‘Evan’s house is a pile of charred rubble.’
‘Oh, no.’ She sighed. ‘The crazy-assed bitch really did it. She killed him.’
‘Perhaps. I need you to get me the address of the local newspaper. I need to find out if Evan’s body’s been found.’
‘I’ll text it to your phone. You can click on the address and it’ll go to your GPS.’
He blinked. ‘Really? Since when?’
‘Since I loaded the app onto your phone.’
‘Thank you. I need some more information. Check the back issues of all the local papers. I want the details on the fire at Evan’s place before I hit the newspaper.’
‘Are you gonna be you or somebody else?’ she asked.
Clay hesitated. ‘Not me, not yet. If Evan’s still alive and just hiding somewhere, I don’t want to give him away. And if Margo Winchester’s cop daddy is involved, I don’t want to show my hand too soon. For now I’m a fire insurance investigator. But I need the details on the fire first, plus who holds the mortgage on that house, if anyone does. Evan only rented it. Find out who their insurance is actually with, if you can. Do you know how to do those searches?’
‘Nicki showed me once.’
‘Good. While you work on that, I’m going to find Margo.’
Baltimore, Monday, May 3, 1.35 P.M.
Lucy stood outside the parking garage next to a squad car, her cell phone to her ear, wincing as Gwyn ranted. Drew was inside the garage with the bomb squad, who were checking out the box in Lucy’s car. The growing crowd behind them was getting angrier by the minute because the garage had been temporarily shut down.
It had been the sight of the bomb squad that had snapped Lucy out of her shock, making her think of Gwyn’s car. What if it wasn’t a heart? What if it was a bomb? What if Gwyn had been left one too? They’d both been involved with Russ at one time.
Gwyn had been understandably upset when Lucy had called to tell her to check her car. And angry. Lucy sighed. And hurt. Gwyn had hung up to check her car, but was now back and rarin’ to go.
‘Why didn’t you tell me it was Bennett?’ Gwyn’s voice shook. ‘I would have come, sat by you when the cops grilled you. My God. Mr Pugh is like your father. No,’ she amended, ‘not like
your
father. Like
a
father. You wouldn’t harm a hair on his head. You shouldn’t have been alone when the cops were questioning you like a criminal.’
I wasn’t alone
, Lucy thought.
Fitzpatrick was there
. The thought startled her for a second, but then she admitted it was true. He’d made her feel safe. And not alone.
‘Craig Mulhauser was there,’ Lucy said wearily. ‘And Thorne already yelled at me. Please don’t yell at me anymore. I’m having a really bad day.’
Gwyn sighed. ‘I’m sorry. But I should have been there. I would have come.’
‘I know. But I’m an old hand at being questioned for murder. I was fine.’
Gwyn grew sullenly silent. ‘That’s not funny, Lucy.’
It was Lucy’s turn to sigh. ‘You’re right. I promise that next time I’m under the bright lights, I’ll call you. Are you okay?’
Gwyn laughed shakily. ‘Yeah, now I am. I was so scared when I got your call that I left half a cannoli on my plate at Mama Rosina’s.’
‘Cannoli?’ Lucy said wistfully. Her stomach had started to growl and she realized she’d eaten nothing all day. Suddenly she was starving. ‘And Mama Rosina makes such a good one.’
‘And ravioli,’ Gwyn said, and Lucy frowned.
‘Now you’re just being cruel.’
‘I would be if I hadn’t brought you any.’
Lucy jumped when someone tapped her shoulder and she wheeled around to find Gwyn and Royce grinning behind her. Hanging up her cell phone, Gwyn held out a large paper sack. For a moment Lucy could only stare, then the wonderful aroma from the bag smacked her in the face.
‘You brought me lunch?’
‘Of course.’ Gwyn reached up to hug her hard. ‘You can’t be finding bodies and hearts on an empty stomach. And cannoli’s always good for what ails you.’
Lucy peeled the foil from the tin and inhaled. ‘Mmm. Thank you. Is there a fork?’
Royce handed her one. ‘Sorry. It’s one of those spork things. I guess they’re worried you’ll stab yourself.’
‘No problem.’ She dug in. ‘You’re sure there’s nothing in your car?’
‘No boxes,’ Gwyn said. ‘Royce and I checked twice.’
‘She didn’t tell me anything,’ he said. ‘But she got so pale that I wouldn’t let her do it alone. Do we need to have the bomb squad check her car?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ll let them know you looked already. This probably isn’t a bomb either.’
‘Are you all right, Luce?’ Gwyn asked.
‘I’m okay. Just . . . overwhelmed. Thorne stayed with me until the cops came.’
‘I know. He called to check on me before he went back into court. He said you were in good hands with the cops.’ Gwyn’s chuckle was dry. ‘And
that
statement alone shows what a fucked-up day this really is.’
Lucy laughed, then realized how much she’d needed to. ‘The day Thomas Thorne felt safe with the cops . . . mark it on the calendar.’ Abruptly she sobered. ‘The bomb squad’s coming out. I think we’re clear. I gotta go.’
‘I have to be getting back,’ Royce said. ‘Come on, babe. I’ll take you to work.’
‘Walk her in, will you, Royce?’ Lucy asked. ‘Make sure she’s safe.’
‘Hey,’ Gwyn said, waving her hand in Lucy’s face. ‘I’m down here.’
But Royce nodded soberly. ‘After all this? You bet. What about you? Who’s making sure you’re safe?’
Fitzpatrick
. But even though she felt it was true, she wasn’t about to say that out loud, so she gestured to all the police cruisers. ‘They are, so don’t worry.’
Gwyn reached up to hug her hard. ‘Come tonight,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I think I need to see that you’re safe more than you need to be there. So please, indulge me.’
Lucy hugged her back. ‘After all this? You bet.’
Monday, May 3, 1.35 P.M.
Stevie pounded on Brandi Bennett’s apartment door again. ‘Mrs Bennett,’ she called loudly. ‘Please come to the door.’
‘Maybe she’s not home,’ JD said.
‘Her car’s outside,’ Stevie said.
A door opened behind them and a middle-aged woman stuck her head out. Her expression was dour. ‘She’s home.’
Stevie gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Thank you. And you are?’
‘Dorothy Camellini.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You two cops?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Stevie said. ‘I’m Detective Mazzetti and this is my partner, Detective Fitzpatrick. How do you know Mrs Bennett is home?’
Dorothy’s brows shot up. ‘
Mrs
Bennett? I had no idea she was married. Her husband must either be very dead or very forgiving.’
‘What do you mean?’ JD asked. ‘And how do you know she’s home?’
‘Because the walls are paper thin. I could hear them in the back room, just before you knocked, then they went quiet. Trying to wait you out.’ Dorothy’s mouth tightened. ‘They
do
things in there, all day long. Her and those men. Sometimes all night.
Things
.’
Stevie leaned closer. ‘You mean sexual things?’ she murmured.
‘Yes. It’s disgusting. They’re making porn in there.’
JD was unsurprised. When he’d seen ‘modeling’ on Brandi Bennett’s business license, it had been the first thing he’d thought of. ‘They might think we’re Vice.’
‘They may wish we were,’ Stevie murmured. She pounded on the door again. ‘We are not Vice,’ she called loudly. ‘Now all your neighbors know that too.’
Abruptly the door opened and a young woman appeared, clutching a short silk robe around her very augmented body. Her face was caked thick with makeup, her blond hair teased within an inch of its life. There was a fresh hickey on the side of her neck. ‘Thank you,’ she snapped. ‘Now all my neighbors know the cops are after me.’
Stevie looked over her shoulder to where Dorothy watched, wide-eyed. ‘We’re good, ma’am. Thank you for your help.’
Dorothy gave Brandi a snide look before closing her door firmly.
Brandi looked at them defiantly. ‘If you’d opened your door when we first knocked,’ JD said mildly, ‘we wouldn’t have kept banging. May we come in?’
‘No you may not,’ she said nastily. ‘Please hurry, I’m very busy.’
I’m sure you were
. But JD kept his voice mild. ‘You’re Mrs Brandi Bennett?’
Her lip curled in contempt. ‘Only until that prick of a husband of mine signs the divorce papers. Did he send you? Asshole. Tell him he’s not getting these back.’ She lifted her breasts high, and when she dropped them they didn’t bounce at all.
Whoa. Okay
. JD wondered if Brandi had given Russell Bennett his Rolex. ‘He wants them back?’ he asked carefully and she sneered.
‘He wants everything back. I don’t get back the gifts I gave him. No, sir. Asshole.’
‘The Rolex,’ JD said and she nodded.
‘I even had it engraved.’ She huffed, pouting. ‘So if you’re here because he said I stole something, he’s lying. These’ – she grabbed her breasts again – ‘are the only things I walked away with, and you can tell him that he’s not getting ’em back. Asshole.’
‘We get the picture,’ Stevie said. ‘But we’re not robbery detectives. I’m Detective Mazzetti and this is my partner, Detective Fitzpatrick. We’re Homicide.’
Brandi’s pout abruptly disappeared, her jaw going slack. ‘H-h-homicide? Why?’
‘We have reason to believe Dr Bennett is dead,’ JD said.
Brandi’s lipsticked mouth worked like a beached trout. ‘Russ? Dead? When?’
‘When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs Bennett?’ Stevie asked.
‘Three weeks ago,’ Brandi murmured. ‘At his divorce attorney’s office.’ The shock slid from her eyes, replaced by panic. ‘I didn’t do it. I swear.’
‘We didn’t say you did,’ JD said. ‘We’re just gathering information right now. Can you tell me if Dr Bennett had any distinctive moles or scars?’
She nodded numbly. ‘Yeah. He had a mole on his back, near his shoulder blade. I kept telling him to have his partner remove it. It was disgusting.’
It was enough of an ID to get a warrant for Bennett’s apartment, JD thought. ‘Who is your husband’s partner?’ he asked, taking out his notebook.
‘Leon Renquist. He does mostly faces. Did my nose. Russ was the breast man. He only did faces when Leon went on vacation.’ She tried to look over JD’s arm to see what was being written in the notebook, but he lifted the notebook higher and she scowled.
‘Did Dr Renquist ever do any procedures on Dr Bennett?’ JD asked.
She nodded. ‘Once. Some bitch broke Russ’s nose and Leon fixed it for him. Gave him some more cheekbone and shaved his chin while he was at it. I used to be mad at the bitch that broke his nose, but if I met her today, I’d give her a medal.’
Go, Lucy
, he thought. ‘Because Dr Bennett was—’
‘An asshole,’ Brandi supplied helpfully. ‘I swear I didn’t kill him. Lots of times I wanted to, but a whole hell of a lot of other people wanted it too. Looks like somebody finally wanted it enough. Did it hurt? When they killed him, I mean. I hope it really hurt.’
JD had to clear his throat. The lady wasn’t the brightest bulb. ‘Mrs Bennett, when did you and Dr Bennett separate?’